


A Sestina for January 20, 2017.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Original Work, United States Politics
Genre: Inspired by Real Events, It occurs to me that I am America, Jewish Themes, More Joy Day, Politics, Presidential Inauguration of Donald Trump, Sestina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9399146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: A sestina for More Joy Day. (note: not actually joyous.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seekingferret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingferret/gifts).



> [As requested by](https://lannamichaels.dreamwidth.org/956664.html?thread=6049272#cmt6049272) [](https://seekingferret.dreamwidth.org/profile)**[seekingferret](https://seekingferret.dreamwidth.org/)**!

Look, you know that what I mean to say now  
is different from what I said before, about how  
things change and not always for the better, show  
me something that stays constant, low  
tide becomes high tide, the equal row  
is an optical illusion, and isn't real. So 

this isn't how it ends, nothing really ends. So  
let's talk about how things are going to begin now  
how nothing will line up neatly in a row  
nothing is neat, I promise you that's not how  
things become other things, some speak low  
and some shout, some hide and some always show. 

This isn't some circus, some kind of planned show  
with actors and players and parts. So  
I will tell you, I don't know how to take low  
tide and make it high, except to wait, but listen now  
don't wait. Don't wait. There's nothing to wait for, how  
will it begin if we wait for others to start first? Row 

towards shore, you can see it if you squint, row  
towards the beginning, which I can't see, show  
me where it is, because I don't know this, or how  
to get myself up in the morning sometimes. So  
I'm the fourth son, you must begin for me now  
and teach me how to take these low 

feelings and turn them into actions, to be s- low  
and steady and win the race, to pick up the oars and row  
myself back to something and somewhere I know now  
will help me, and you, and everyone else. Show  
me how to blow these walls down, or tie off this thread. So  
teach me, take me, until I can tell everyone how 

we came together and we found the tears, how  
we cried as we mended them, our voices low  
and haunted. I need this from you now. So  
let me in, teach me to row  
take my hand, show  
me now. 

Listen, you know I'm unreliable, you know what I'm like, how I count out each and every row  
in my knitting, twice, three times, four times, more; how depression brought me low, how I check the doors too much. Show  
me that fear in your handful of dust, I know it's my life. So you know I wish I was better, but still I say to be counted: hineini, here I am now.


End file.
